by E M Garcia
The scene changed again, swirling around me. When it solidified again, I was on N'Cali, the colony where I grew up. The rolling blue-green grass and our white clapboard house stood in the distance, swaying in a raging breeze. The moutain loomed over the house, spewing a plume into the sky. The black plume from Mt. Victoria was the same color as Daq'usk's of Ithil's eyes, but it filled me with dread instead of curiosity.
The house and Mt. Victoria disappeared in a rush of black, leaving Daq’usk's shirtless torse in my view. With the lights down, he didn’t need the goggles to protect his eyes. The concern in his eyes was all to evident. They glimmered like volcanic glass as he furrowed his brow.
“Are you alright, Tammy?” he asked. I could get lost in those eyes if they didn’t seem to see right through me.
I groaned and pushed myself into a sitting position. My mind may have taken a trip across the stars, but my body only went as far as J’Selle’s floor, and she needed to replace her carpet.
“Please, don’t call me Tammy." I turned to look at him, coming face-to-face with the most intensely black eyes I had ever seen. It felt as if I could fall into them and drift into a peaceful void, surrounded by his earthy scent.
Daq chuckled softly and helped me to my feet, carefully touching the long sleeves of my dress “If you can get annoyed, you’re fine.”
I brushed off the comment as he helped me to my feet, focusing for a moment on how many credits I would owe Izzy if I had somehow damaged her dress. My eyes landed on the empty display case as I looked up, a twinge in my stomach reminding me of the most likely reason Daq’usk of Ithil was shirtless in my sister-in-law’s apartment.
“I should go,” I said. “You and J’Selle probably want some privacy.” I took a step toward the door. The room swayed for a second before setting itself right again.
“She’s at the lab. You can’t go,” the green-skinned man said. His strong, tepid hands caught me as I swayed again. “A sudden walk with no training without taking rest is asking for trouble. “
“That was memory walking?” I asked in disbelief. Somehow, the name had always given me vision of fluffy clouds and slow motion jogs through fields. Not whatever it was that happened when I touched him.
He nodded. “A jagged glass version of it. You might be fine or you might pass out again. It mostly depends on your constitution. Give it a few minutes, I insist. Besides, I've been with the Lady for days. I could use a change in company. We both could.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Trouble in paradise?”
“Paradise implies we haven’t been at each others throats since the moment I got here.”
“Do you always speak so negatively about your lovers to their little sisters?” The words left my mouth in a rush. In the aftermath, I stood with my mouth open in shock. I turned away to spare myself some embarrassment, only to come face-to-face with the empty display case again. I shouldn’t have come here. I should have gone back to Izzy’s room and crashed on her couch or crawled into my bunk on the Cal and locked the door. Anywhere but here.
“She hasn’t told you,” Daq said flatly.
“Could you be a little more specific? Sharing isn’t exactly J’Selle’s go to manuever.”
“The Lady and I have never been lovers,” Daq said sim` “We’d kill each other if we were ever foolish enough to try.”
“It’s none of my business,” I said, but the words gave me more comfort than I cared to admit for reason I definitely wasn’t ready to unpack.
“J’Selle has been ordered to cloister,” Daq whispered in a strained voice.
I wrinkled my brow, trying to make sense of my translator’s word choice or maybe I just didn’t want to believe it. The Qu’ren had their own name for the strange practice of years long hibernation. But Selle wasn’t due to take the big sleep for years, maybe decades.
“She never said….” The voice that left my lips sounded smaller than I meant it to. I stepped forward and brushed my finger over the display. A fine layer of dust transferred from the surface to my finger. “Is that why everyone’s here?”
“I can only speak for myself,” Daq said. “But if I know the others as well as I think I do, they wouldn’t let the Lady go to sleep without saying goodbye.”
His voice broke on the last word, though he cleared his throat to cover it. I swallowed hard, praying the lump in my throat didn’t make me choke. I should be grateful. Somehow we were getting a chance with J’Selle that we hadn’t gotten with Jack, the chance to say goodbye. It should have been enough, but it felt pretty far from it.
“Why didn’t she say anything?” I asked, turning around to look at Daq’usk. “Is she fighting it?”
He shrugged and let his shoulders fall forward. “As I understand it, she has decided to accept the transition gracefully.”
“Decided or been encouraged?” I never cared for how involved the Qu’reni Council was in the lives of their citizens. Only military and staff were beholden to Alliance and Federation laws, but birth in Qu’ren space subjected anyone of their species to the life path the Council deemed fit. That included years on ice, puring themselves of the dirty emotions they’d picked up from the lesser species.
“The result is the same, but if I had to guess, I would say both.” Daq’usk was a trained assassin, but suddenly he looked so fragile that it took every ounce of willpower I had not to touch him in an effort to comfort. Me ending up on my back again wouldn’t be much comfort to anybody.
“This isn’t right.” My mind ran through half a dozen ways I could pick up the fight J’Selle wouldn’t. I thought of every favor I had on the table, every boon I could offer, ever ounce of crap I was willing to swallow to keep her on this side of Qu’ren space. None of them would be enough.
“To be a [kheela] is a heavy burden, Tam,” he whispered. “There’s no shame in being willing to lay it down.”
“I haven’t had much contact with the Knaewa. What exactly is a [kheel?]”
“Each living being is defined by two things, what they do and what they remember. The one is how others judge us, the latter is how we judge ourselves. A kheela can carry the memories of the dead, and in this way, the purest memory of them. You might say a kheela is two people in one body. ”
As Daq spoke, my gaze wandered to the apartment behind him.
“That sounds awful,” I whispered. Between the concussion, Gale, and the empty display case, I hadn’t noticed how many things were missing from J’Selle’s apartment. Gifts from coworkers, hardcover books she’d kept for years after she read them, a treasured vase from her home world, all of them were missing. How long had she known? How long had she been shedding the pieces of her life to prepare for her final trip?
There hadn’t been much left of my brother to bury after the battle, but that hadn’t stopped multiple graves and memorials from popping up across the galaxy. Between the Federation and the Alliance, there were a dozen places I could pay my respoects to him, if I ever had the urge to torture myself. When I lost J’Selle, I wouldn’t be so lucky
“If I wanted to act as J’Selle’s escort to the hibernation facility, what would it take to get you on board?”
Daq blinked, eyebrows raised and full lips pursed. “Why do you need me?”
I took a deep breath, considering how honest to be with my answer. Every instinct I had told me it was a bad idea to trap myself on ship for three jumps with a man who distracted me this much, but if I wanted to give my sister a proper good bye, I would have to learn to deal with it.
“Because I need a good way to sell my bosses on taking the Cal of duty for the trip.”
“And I can help with that?”
“Not you alone,” I said. “But all of you, the Wreckers back on the Calypso, I can sell.”
Daq knelt beside the table and picked up his goggles. His expression darkened as he slid them over his eyes. “That might prove more difficult that you image, Tameron. “
“If I can get three of you to agree, then my bosses will go f
or it,” I said, taking a breath. “I had dinner with Alix Barnes this evening and I know Xaveer is on the station somewhere.”
He tilted his chin up and wrinkled his brow, as if he meant to argue with me but thought better of the idea at the last second. “I would talk to Wes Mason before I spoke to the Demon. He may be more sympathetic to your cause.”
“Might be, but nobody knows where to find him and Lady or no, there’s no way he’s bold or crazy enough to waltz onto an Alliance station.”
“You don’t know him,” Daq said, a small grin peaking on his lips. “As it happens, I turned him down for a drink about half an hour ago. He'll take that as a challenge and drink my share.”
“Is that a yes?” It wouldn’t have been the worst thing if he said no, but it would make the job harder. If I Mason, Alix, or Xaveer said no, I would have no choice but to ask Gale.
“If my presence won’t complicate things.”
“Is there some reason why it would?”
“Not if Wes Mason signs on.”
There had to be more to the story, but it didn’t feel right to pry. If I needed to get Wes Mason to buy myself a few more weeks, then that’s what I would do.
“Then I’d better change.” I turned to go, but Daq caught my sleeve. Even through the fabric of my dress, I could feel trendrils of electric cold sliding up my arm.
“You still need to rest, Tameron," he said. "And that is a rough part of the station for a woman alone." Something about the smooth way my name fell from his lips made it sounds more attractive than when anybody else said it. For the first time, I didn’t feel the urge to remind him of my nickname.
"Yesterday, you flung me at an armed separatist, today you're worried I'll get into a bar fight?" I shook my head, marveling at his lack of consistency.
"That was a calculated risk, with a team waiting on the other side."
“I’m a lot tougher than I look,” I said, pulling away. His concern was sweet, but if I could handle myself. A little heaDaqhe was the least of my worries. There was work to do, and the last thing I needed was to be watched over by a gorgeous shirtless man. Especially one who as available.
7
Of the five men on Jack’s team, all but two, Barnes and Howard, had retired from active service. By now, Alix and Gale could take whatever assignment they wanted. I didn’t want to talk to Gale unless I had to. There was no point bothering Alix until I knew I could make the trip work. That meant getting one of the Wreckers to give me a firm commitment. I messaged Izzy and asked her for a rundown on Adamant, the club where Wes Mason had arranged to meet Daq’usk and Xaveer. While I waited for her response, I took mass lift down to the lower wards. She sent back that it was an exclusive club. Despite Daq’usk’s warnings about the neighborhood, Izzy claimed it was better known for burned out miners and long-range colonists than criminals. She reminded me to return her dress and charged me a bottle of wine for her trouble. For the crime of making Isabel Kimball work on her night off that was getting off light.
The upper floors and command structures took most of the damage during the Battle of Aurora, leaving the lower levels relatively unharmed. Dwellings and shops on the upper floors had always commanded higher prices, but the construction boom in the wake of the destruction cemented them as a place only the elite of the galaxy could afford. It wasn’t that the lower wards were dangerous. People down there just had nothing to lose.
Adamant was on Level 74, the deepest you could go before the dock and maintenance areas. You didn’t go that far down on Aurora unless you were lost or wanted to be. It took a few minutes standing in line and a twenty-credit bribe to the bouncer to get inside. Exclusive wasn't the word I would use to describe this place. The owners kept the lighting dim, probably to hide the chips and cracks in the cheap furniture. It wouldn’t fool any soldier with ocular implants, but it a tourist looking for a good time would be none the wiser. Decor wasn’t the appeal of places this club.
Most of the patrons were men. The few women in the room wore fancier, more revealing clothes. The ones in the booth slid drinks to the patrons and giggled at their jokes. Some of them danced seductively against their companions, oblivious to the stilted movements done in return. At the table beside me, an Eaxon grabbed the woman next to him’s thigh, slurring over the ethereal music how much he wanted to lick his next drink off it. She pinched his wrist between her fingers so hard they trembled, pulling it away from her skin as he winced in pain. The Eaxon’s scaly skin shimmered from pale blue to deep red.
“The company’s for sale, love,” she said. “The rest of me, you couldn’t afford.”
I couldn’t help but smile as I turned away to scan the crowd again. Xaveer the Demon was easy to spot. His presence filled every spare inch of air around him as much due to his booming laugh as his huge size. The width of his chest nearly filled one side of the booth. Even seated, he rose two heads above almost everyone else. The only exception was one of his companions, a chocolate-furred Strekháni female beside Xaveer who looked more intent on finding the bottom of her drink than she did engaging the conversation. Every few seconds, she glanced at the Demon over the rim of her glass and scowled. Two women, a human and knaewa sat on either side of a human man and seem to be delighting in his stories.
I only recognized one of the other three at the table. Wes Mason, formerly known as Trick, sat opposite Xaveer. After his time with the Wreckers, Mason had become a cutting edge researcher in field of Artificial Intelligence. Rumor had it he got too close to the AI he researched, preferring them to his own kind. His devotion to the technology led him to found Radiance Lives. Now, he was an outlaw living in Free Space. His long black hair and the jacket were a far cry from the buzz cut and fatigues of his military days. The swirl of a tattoo on his neck peaking over his shirt collar marked his affiliation with Radiance Lives. It was a recent addition to his profile, one he’d acquired in the years after he served under my brother. That tattoo and the associations behind it made Wes Mason infamous. It was insane for him to be on Aurora at all, let alone during Memorial Week.
As I approached, Mason locked on eyes on me through his long black strands.
"Look alive, demon,” he said. “We've got company."
I smiled and extended a hand, opening my mouth to introduce myself when his soft, furry mass shot up from the table and rammed right into me. Xaveer’s club-sized arms locked around me in a viselike bear hug.
“That was a hell of a stunt you pulled the other day, girl,” he boomed over the music. “Your brother’s guts and that face, damn!”
“Thank you,” I managed to croak when he set me back on my feet. The reinforced skeleton that held up to decades of the Admiral’s hugs threatened to bend under raw Strekháni strength. If Xaveer had wanted to hurt me, I couldn’t have done a damned thing to stop him.
Mason snorted and leaned back, slinging his arm of the shoulders of the Knaewa woman next to him. “Damn, Strekháni. Give them a little freedom and it goes right to their heads. Absolutely no sense of propriety.”
Xaveer rubbed the back of his neck as he sat back down. “A Strekháni always greets a friend with an embrace, and anyone who saves my life is a friend. Come, sit! Drink!”
I shook my head to refuse, but Xaveer had already turned to the bar and motioned for another round. When he finished, he turned his attention back to the women at the table, pulling their attention away from Mason. My translator infused his voice with a rich accent that intrigued my ear, the aural equivalent of downing a shot of cinnamon and honey. All but the woman of his species stared at him in rapt attention.
Xaveer slid away from the table and went to the bar to get the drinks with the female hot on hIzzyels. She must have been his handler, a representative of the Strekháni Protectorate sent to make sure their honored veteran didn't cause too much trouble.
"Lieutenant Mason, I'm Tam Cage--" I began once the others were out of earshot. He swiped his hand to the air, motioning for me to be quiet.
“Wr
ong tactic,” he said. “I’m not a Lieutenant anymore. If you had done your homework, you’d know that. That’s strike one, Ambassador. Three and you’re out.”
"You know what I do?" I asked.
He grinned. "After last night, you're famous. For people who care about those things, anyway."
I leaned back, spreading my hands out to him. Daq’usk thought he would be more sympathetic, but Mason’s slumped shoulders and narrowed eyes said otherwise. “I knew, but I kind of have a rule about showing respect to soldiers. No matter when they left the field…or why.”
“I wonder does that rule extend to Galeon.” He tossed back the drink in his hand and poured himself another, a small grin tugging at his lips. I would have dearly loved to wipe it off his face if I weren’t there to ask for hIzzylp. "So what brings Galactic Alliance ambassador down to the lower wards? Can’t you get into the swanky joints upstairs?”
“You couldn’t set foot in those places.” I took the side of the booth Xaveer and his handler had abandoned. The ladies scooted closer together. “The bouncers would call station security at the first sight of that tattoo.”
Mason’s fingers shot to his lapel, tugging it up and over the exposed ink. “Wouldn’t be caught dead in, there’s a difference. That’s pretty, by the way,” he said, nodding to the angel wings at my throat. “Do you know you finger it when you’re nervous? Strike two for being a smart ass. I’m the only smart ass around here.”